


The Bear and the Maiden Fair

by LadyRhiyana



Series: Genderswap tales [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/F, Female Jaime Lannister, Nothing painful happens in this story, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Westerosi Rumour and Gossip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 05:05:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,682
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17860844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyRhiyana/pseuds/LadyRhiyana
Summary: “Why is it,” Lady Jaime asks, “that if I were a man the world would call it incest, but the thought of twin golden sisters is every man’s fantasy?”[Or - Jaime/Brienne femmeslash, set on the road from Riverrun to King's Landing. (Minus the Bloody Mummers.) A companion ficlet to "The Queen of Love and Beauty".]





	The Bear and the Maiden Fair

**Author's Note:**

> This is a companion ficlet to "The Queen of Love and Beauty". That fic grew out of this one, and so you will see there are considerable - and deliberate - similarities, which I left in as I wrote because it was interesting to explore the differences. 
> 
> As with "The Queen of Love and Beauty", warnings for bad things that happened to young Jaime in King's Landing at the hands of the Mad King - it is mentioned only in passing, though, and not in detail. 
> 
> PS: I do apologise for the title.

The word travels swiftly through the servants’ halls, the barracks halls and the great hall alike. “King Robb has taken the Kingslayer,” the knights and men-at-arms say. “Brought her back from Ashemark in chains.”

There’s a cruel, prurient element to the men’s speculation. Lady Jaime Lannister, Lord Twyin’s younger daughter and the Queen’s twin sister, is infamous throughout Westeros: they say she seduced Aerys Targaryen and murdered him as he slept; they say she refused to marry afterwards and swore to murder any husband Lord Tywin forced on her in the same manner. 

They say that she and the Queen committed all sorts of debauchery in the King’s own bed. They say that the twin golden sisters lay with their golden Lannister cousins and of those unholy unions the Queen’s children were conceived. 

They say many things. 

Brienne doesn’t know what to think. 

** 

The door to the Kingslayer’s tower cell is guarded, but Brienne knocks the lone sentry out with one swift blow to the back of his skull. When she fumbles the door open, she is prepared for anything. 

A sultry golden seductress, blood staining her white hands. A ruthless, cold-blooded murderess, her beauty cruel, like a dagger in men’s hearts. 

But the woman who turns to face her is – 

Golden-haired, yes, and green-eyed, as all Lannisters are said to be. Beautiful as the sun, yes, but Brienne thinks that Lady Jaime’s beauty is not so much proud and fierce as – reckless. Impatient. Her long golden hair is not piled up in elaborate braids but pulled hastily back; her movements are not languid and graceful but quick and determined. 

Her eyes are not cold and calculating but – cynical. Sardonic. 

“Good gods,” she says, looking Brienne up and down. “Are you – are you a _woman_?”

“My lady,” Brienne replies, stolid in the face of that mockery, “my name is Brienne of Tarth. I’m here to take you back to King’s Landing.”

** 

“Lady Catelyn Stark wishes her daughters returned to her,” Brienne says, pulling steadily on the oars. “She hopes that if she returns you to King’s Landing, the Queen will release Sansa and Arya.”

“And what makes her think Cersei will do anything of the sort?” Lady Jaime asks. 

Shed of her silken finery, dressed instead in sturdy grey wool with her golden hair covered by a shawl, Lady Jaime is still every bit as beautiful, but more approachable. She looks like – like Lady Catelyn, somehow, more real woman than golden court lady.

“If she does not, your brother Lord Tyrion has sworn it in open court.”

Lady Jaime smiles crookedly. “Well. We’ll soon find out, won’t we.” 

There are fine lines at the corners of her eyes, and as she trails her fingers through the cool river water and squints up at the sky, a slight, private smile on her lips. 

Brienne can’t tear her eyes away.

**

When they stop for the night, Brienne heaves the boat to and makes it fast, makes the camp, gathers wood for the fire and snags a fat rabbit. She skins it with swift, practiced ease and sets it on a spit to cook, conscious all the while of Lady Jaime’s eyes on her. 

“You’re very good at this sort of thing,” Lady Jaime says. “Your father wanted a son, didn’t he? And look what he got.”

Brienne shakes off the cruel words. They are simply another ache, and she pays no heed, just as her shoulders ache from the weight of her armour and her blistered hands burn from long hours of rowing.

Lady Jaime is tall for a woman, her presence and her golden beauty almost overwhelming. But for all that, she is almost a head shorter than Brienne, slender where Brienne is brawny, so undeniably feminine that she makes Brienne feel awkward and hulking in comparison. 

Brienne has never before felt more conscious of her size and strength. 

That – is another sort of ache.

When they put their bedrolls side by side and sleep with back pressed to back, Brienne can smell the elusive ghost of Lady Jaime’s perfume, the scent of lavender and herbs caught in her golden hair.

** 

The next night, as they stare at each other across the campfire, Lady Jaime says: “Go on, then. Ask.”

Brienne does not pretend to misunderstand. “Why did you kill the Mad King?”

Lady Jaime’s eyes are fierce, wicked green in the firelight. Her smile is razor-sharp. “Most people never ask why. They’re more interested in the part where I seduced him and murdered him in his own bed.”

“They say you were only five and ten when Aerys demanded you as a hostage. And seven and ten when you killed him. Did you – did you truly seduce him? Or was it –” 

She trails off, flushing awkwardly. 

Lady Jaime’s smile dies. “When I was a girl,” she muses, “I used to wish that I could be one of the Kingsguard. Like Aemon the Dragonknight, or Ser Duncan the Tall –”

There’s a moment of silence, the night dark and still save for the crackling of the flames. Lady Jaime draws in her breath and continues. “Everyone knew the king was mad, and yet the white knights stood by and did nothing. They watched, and they did not judge, as the Mad King burned high lord and serving girl alike; as he attacked and ravaged the Queen – yes, and me – after every burning; as he fell deeper and ever deeper into madness. They would have stood aside as he gave the order to burn King’s Landing to ashes. They watched and did nothing – and so I took it on myself to act, if no one else would.”

“It was so easy,” Lady Jaime says, her eyes far away and fixed on another time, another place. “So easy in the end, to simply pick up the knife and drive it into his back. The smell, though.” She tilts her head. “I didn’t expect that. The tales never mention the smell.”

Brienne shivers. “And – the Queen?” she asks, half-afraid of the answer. “Is it true what they say, about you and your sister?”

That razor-sharp smile returns suddenly, fiercer and sharper than ever. “Why is it,” Lady Jaime asks, “that if I were a man the world would call it incest, but the thought of twin golden sisters is every man’s fantasy?”

**

The scent of lavender and herbs follows Brienne down into her dreams. In her mind’s eye, she sees them: Lady Jaime and the Queen, mirror reflections, entwined, their mouths pressed together and their hair falling about them like molten gold.

** 

The next morning, she can’t quite meet Lady Jaime’s eyes. She flushes uncomfortably whenever the lady addresses her, and replies in mumbles; whenever she catches a whiff of lavender and herbs something curls tight and hot in her belly.

“What’s gotten into you?” Lady Jaime asks, not truly curious – but when Brienne fails to answer, she turns back, her interest truly piqued – 

Brienne flushes bright, splotchy red. 

“Oh,” she says, with a cruel, feline smile that makes Brienne want to sink into the ground, “oh, it’s your fantasy too, is it? No brawny, hairy knights for the Maid of Tarth – twin golden sisters.”

“Not – not sisters,” Brienne manages to stutter out. It feels like the bravest thing she’s ever done. “Just you.” 

** 

When they finally reach King’s Landing, the journey long and hard but without incident, Lady Jaime invites Brienne to attend her in her chambers. 

Brienne puts on her best tunic and breeches and combs her hair, but there’s no changing what her mirror tells her – she’s too tall, too masculine, too ugly. Still, she thought Lady Jaime might have found her – useful, at least; she did not want to part without at least saying farewell. 

When the page ushers her into Lady Jaime’s chambers, Brienne sees luxurious furnishings, gauzy curtains, and a velvet-upholstered chaise longue. It’s a highborn lady’s boudoir, airy and feminine, and Brienne feels horribly out of place. 

“Lady Jaime?” she calls, and follows the scent of lavender and herbs to find a copper tub filled with hot water, Lady Jaime submerged save for her shoulders, her golden hair piled up on her head. 

She turns to see Brienne, a wicked smile curving her lips. “Ah,” she says, “there you are.” In one swift movement she rises to her feet, water pouring down her white body. 

Brienne swallows and looks away. 

“Oh come now,” Lady Jaime says, stepping gracefully out of the tub and reaching for a gauzy green robe. “All brave and gallant knights are due a reward for their services.”

“I did not – I had no thought of reward,” Brienne protests. 

“And yet. If I said that I offer this freely, not in payment or reward but because it pleases me?”

Lady Jaime’s skin is warm and damp, her scent stronger than ever. Shed of her clothes, her razor-sharp smile, her defences, she is still overwhelming – 

Brienne makes a strangled sound in her throat, and reaches out to touch her with her rough, calloused hands.

** 

Afterwards, they lie entwined in Lady Jaime’s bed, sated and replete. 

Lady Jaime is pressed against her side, one hand stroking absently over Brienne’s muscled shoulders, murmuring approval of her strength and her size. 

Hardly daring to believe her luck, Brienne tangles one of Lady Jaime’s golden curls around her fingers, feeling the soft, silken warmth of it, so different from her own straw-like hair. 

“Do you still dream of twin golden sisters, Lady Brienne?” Lady Jaime asks. 

Brienne laughs softly. “Only you,” she says, pressing her lips against that warm, white skin. “Only you, my lady.”

**** 

**Epilogue**

****

Long years later, Lady Jaime comes to Winterfell. 

She comes alone, without the Lannister armies, but she is still proud and strong and brave, just as she had been when Brienne first saw her in her tower cell at Riverrun. 

The lines around her eyes are somewhat deeper, and there are threads of silver now amongst her long golden braids. 

But her smile is just as razor-sharp and wicked, and her kisses every bit as sweet.


End file.
